Death Wades Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Our lives were of this moment…
the wave made sure of that

Winter nineteen sixty-nine
Waimea's fury spat

Thirty feet and building
the giants all had come

Their lips four stories high above
too late to cut and run

The paddle out a nightmare
the ride a waiting terror

The drop in looming zero-sum
the wall the devils mirror

We made it down and set our fins
to climb the face again

Our ears were deaf, eyes frozen wide
once more to climb the mountain

On top we leaned and split the crest
last turn to surf the violence

The beach in sight, through foams delight
—death wading through the silence

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January,2019)
‘Memories Of Waimea'